


untitled wingfic

by J (j_writes)



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M, Superpowers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-27
Updated: 2010-10-27
Packaged: 2017-10-12 22:21:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/129751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_writes/pseuds/J
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I can't rub you and get three wishes?" Frank asked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	untitled wingfic

**Author's Note:**

> fandom tropes meme - written for Shoemaster. based loosely in [this](http://lordessrenegade.livejournal.com/200677.html?thread=2133733#t2133733) universe, a vague bandom/Heroes crossover that never got written.

Frank was stretched out on the roof of the bus when Gerard joined him, sprawled on his back, his shirt riding up to show his tattoos, a half-empty water bottle between his fingers. He picked up the bottle and poured some of it on his face, then blinked owlishly at Gerard as he climbed up.

"Here," he said, and kicked a notebook across the roof at him. "Draw us an air conditioner."

Gerard took the notebook and settled down next to him, but frowned disapprovingly. "It doesn't work that way," he said.

"Save my life, GWay," Frank said, flinging an arm over his face dramatically.

"I'm not a genie, Frank."

"I can't rub you and get three wishes?" Frank asked, leering at him from under his hand.

"I can't make things just _appear_. I can manipulate people, not inanimate objects. You _know_ that."

"Then manipulate us up a repairman to put _in_ an air conditioner." Gerard sighed and didn't reply. "Or manipulate me to Antarctica."

Gerard fanned him half-heartedly with the notebook. "Dressed like that?" he asked, taking in Frank's worn out t-shirt, his shorts. "You'd be dead in thirteen seconds flat."

"But it'd be a blissfully cold death," Frank said, tipping his head back against the roof. He eyed a couple of birds whirling over the parking lot. "Bet they're cool," he said jealously.

Gerard leaned back to watch them too. "Frankie, you're sick like 80% of the year," he reminded him. "Sitting on the couch, covered up in every blanket and hoodie we own. You're not going to enjoy the heat while you've got it?"

Frank rolled his head to look at Gerard, seeming to consider that. "That's why I hate it," he said finally, sounding miserable. "Feels like I still have a fever."

Gerard frowned, and reached over to ruffle Frank's hair, making it stick straight up. Frank grumbled a protest and rolled away, smoothing it back down. "Here," Gerard said, and picked up the notebook. "I've got an idea."

He settled it onto his lap, and watched out of the corner of his eye as Frank closed his eyes, smiling contentedly. He sketched for a while, the scratch of his pen louder than the background noises of late-night tour grounds, the cries of the birds over them. "C'mere," he said eventually, leaning over and rolling Frank onto his side. Frank grumbled a little, but curled up where Gerard put him, looking up inquisitively. "Just...stay there for a second, okay?" Gerard sketched a few final details into the picture, and signed the bottom.

"Nothing's hap - " Frank started to say, then cut himself off halfway through. "Gee?"

Gerard reached out to touch his shoulder. "It's okay," he said, "just...don't move." Frank squirmed and went to reach over his shoulder to scratch at his back, but Gerard grabbed his wrist in his fingers. "Oh," he said as he saw Frank's shirt stretching out, "crap, that's...c'mere." He pulled Frank up into a sitting position, then dragged his shirt off. He held it up to inspect it. "Saved it," he said triumphantly.

"Damn well better have," Frank said. "I _like_ that shirt." Then he frowned. "Saved it from _what_?" Gerard just smiled at him, and nodded at Frank's back. "I don't..." Frank said, and finally reached back. "Oh," he said, looking stunned. "Oh. You. _Gerard_."

Gerard leaned back against his arms and grinned. He watched Frank climb to his feet and spin in a circle like a dog chasing his tail to try to get a look at the wings that stretched out from his shoulderblades. He twitched his arms, and the wings spread out to an impressive width, fluttering a little. " _Fuck_ ," Frank breathed out. "You are _good_." He reached out one hand to touch the feathers on his other wing, and shivered. "I can _feel_ it. Gee, come here, you've got to check this shit out." He reached down and pulled Gerard to his feet. "Here, just..." Frank dragged one of Gerard's hands to the feathers, and Gerard slid his fingers over them, feeling them silky and strong under his touch.

"That's..." he said. "That is so _weird_."

"Weird," Frank said, "says the _superhero_."

"I'm not a - " Gerard protested, but then Frank was pulling back, testing out the range of motion of the wings, flapping them and generating a breeze.

"Dude," he said. "This is _so_ much better than an air conditioner." He looked down at himself, and Gerard followed his gaze, taking in the dark shadows his wings cast over his tattoos, the way his pants were just barely clinging to his hips. "Think I could go onstage like this?" he asked.

"I'm pretty sure Brian would have us both shot," Gerard said sadly.

"True," Frank agreed. "You could give him some of his own. He's always wanted to jump out of planes, right?" He paused, then looked at Gerard with wide eyes. "Wait. Do they _work_?"

Gerard smiled and gestured at the edge of the bus, glad that he'd drawn Frank in flight already so that yes, he knew they worked. "Why don't you find out?"

Frank practically bounced in glee, then threw his arms around Gerard. "Best superhero _ever_ ," he said, before running to the edge of the bus and jumping off, his wings catching the air as he spread them, lifting him up over the parking lot.

"I'm not a superhero," Gerard said quietly, but as he watched Frank wheeling in ecstatic circles over his head, he kind of felt like one, just for a moment.


End file.
